GoG: Willogren's Story 1 Song of Destiny
by digital devotion
Summary: Willogren, an orphaned Striped Owl, and his best friend, Annah, find themselves in the fight for their lives when they get caught up in the war against the Pure Ones when they try to find the Great Ga'Hoole Tree to become Guardians of Ga'Hoole.
1. Prologue The Orphan

**Author's Notes:** I wrote this whole story over a year ago. I'm revising my grammer as I post each chapter, so I will probably only post one chapter at a time. A sequel was planned, but I haven't read the series in a while and don't remember much about how the owls talk and the places that they live. If I ever get around to rereading the series, I will finish the sequel and post it as well. For now, this story will sit by itself. I hope you all enjoy it, anyways.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Guardians of Ga'Hoole, but I do own the characters that were created for my story. Please don't steal any of my characters.

**Guardians of Ga'Hoole: Willogren's Story**

**# 1 The Song of Destiny**

**Prologue**

**_The Orphan_**

An owlet was born the night his parents were viciously murdered by the Pure Ones. The Pure Ones were Tyto owls, all of them, and they thought that any sort of owls that were not of Tyto relation were impure. While the owlet's parents fought a few trees away from their hollow, an egg was cracking inside. Luckily, the sounds of battle were too loud for any of the Barn Owls to hear the birth of a small, slime-covered Striped Owl. He cracked his shell with the tiny eggtooth that his mother would have hooted over if she had been there. With a squelch muffled by the cries of two dying Striped Owls, the little male was born into a cold hollow full of down.

He began to cry when a cold wind blew in through the entrance. A shaft of moonlight from the full moon hanging in the sky crossed his tightly-shut eyes. Outside, a group of Barn Owls looked, with smug expressions, upon the two dead owls lying on the forest floor. One spread her wings and flew into the night sky. The other five followed noisily, their beaks clamped so they were not tempted to say a word.

Inside the hollow, the new owlet was chirruping in hunger. He wanted to be rid of the endless feeling in his insides. But the poor owlet would not be tended to until two nights later, when an elderly Boreal Owl flew by and heard his squeaks of hunger.

Huntley had outlived his mate years ago. His once brown feathers were frayed and ghostly white, and his eyesight was beginning to fail him. The night he found the owlet was the night he had decided he would find somewhere calm and quiet to live out the rest of his days, which were growing very short. During his lifetime, Huntley and his deceased mate had at least nine offspring. He was very familiar with the sound of hunger, and this young chick was beyond hungry.

"Hello there, little chap." Huntley lighted down and peered into the hollow where the Striped Owl chick was seated. "You don't need to be worried none. Your ma and da will be bringing you some nice caterpillars soon enough."

The young owlet quivered. It had never heard the voice of an owl before, and it was quite scary. His hunger began to gnaw again and he chirped, opening and closing his beak for food.

"There, there, little chap. Your hunger will be gone soon, don't you worry." Huntley spread his wings to fly away, but the little owlet began hopping toward the edge of the hollow. "Hold on there, little chap! You're not ready for the big outside world yet." _Hmm. This owlet is acting very odd. Perhaps he has been abandoned?_ Huntley thought to himself.

The chick took another hop toward the edge. The closeness between the edge and the chick scared Huntley.

"Right-o, little chap." Huntley stepped into the hollow and carefully forced the chick nearer the back of the hollow. "You stay right here and I'll get you some food. My sight isn't as good as it used to be, but I'm sure I could scratch up some caterpillars for you."

Huntley stepped back out and flew to the bottom of the tree. After a few minutes searching, he found three caterpillars and flew back up to the hollow to deliver them to the hungry chick. "Here you go. Head first, little chap! Always head first!"

The owlet gobbled up the caterpillars without a second's hesitation. This was a very hungry little owl, and a very scrawny one at that. Huntley bent down closer to get a better look. The chick had its cover of down that made it look awfully fluffy, but it was rather skinny.

"You don't seem very fattened up." Huntley stuck his beak into the owlet's feathers to preen him. The chick jumped and waddled away quickly, screeching. "You've never been touched, by Glaux!"

The little owl burped and shivered.

It was then that Huntley decided he'd flown this way for a reason, and that reason had to be this little owlet. With his failing eyesight, Huntley had a hard time determining what sort of owl the chick was, but after some careful consideration, he'd come to the conclusion it was a Striped Owl.

"I wonder what happened to your ma and da, little chap?" Huntley bent down and preened the chick. It screeched again and hobbled away. "You haven't been cared for properly. I'm in my last few days, but I'll try my hardest to bring you up right, young'un. Count on it. I'll not take my last breath until I know you'll be well off without me."

The pledge fell on ears that didn't understand the words, but they seemed to calm the owlet and when Huntley preened the chick again, he didn't move away.

"I guess I should name you," Huntley mumbled. "But I won't for a few days, to make sure your parents do not come back."

The owlet did not hear these words, for he had fallen fast asleep. Huntley's eyes twinkled with merriment at the sight of the chick leaning against his legs as it slept. Yes, Huntley may not be living much longer, but he had a purpose for these last few days of his life. And caring for an orphaned owlet was a perfect purpose.

* * *

A few days later, the chick opened his eyes and saw for the first time. His parents had not returned and Huntley reasoned that they never would. Huntley stood at the entrance, looking out at the dwenking moon.

"Well, little chap, I think it's time I give you a name." Huntley watched the owlet staring at him with his wide, dark eyes. "I can't keep calling you little chap, or you'll start to think _that's_ your name." Huntley churred in laughter before settling beside the owlet. "I never knew your parents, young'un, so I couldn't say what name they would've given you. But my mate, Kataya, and I had nine owlets and we were able to name them all."

Huntley sighed and ruffled his feathers in thought. "What about Lardo?"

The chick stared back blankly.

"No. That doesn't seem to fit." Huntley clacked his beak. "Flant? Drot? Vinnar? No, no, no. None of those either. Something longer, I think. Perhaps with a _Wh_ in the beginning. Whilmer. Whalter. Whilks. Willogren. Hmm, I like the sound of that. How does Willogren sound, young'un?"

The owlet chirped.

"Willogren it is, then!" Huntley preened the fluffy down of the newly named chick. "Willogren is a wonderful name. Strong, flexible. It slips out the beak perfectly. Willogren."

And from then on, the little Striped Owl was called Willogren.

* * *

Willogren grew quickly. At first, he didn't notice that his "Uncle Huntley" was getting weaker and weaker. That was until Uncle Lee, which was Willogren's nickname for the elderly Boreal, didn't have enough energy to leave the hollow.

"What's wrong, Uncle Lee?" Willogren peered up into the white-feathered face and light brown eyes of the only owl Willogren knew. Huntley had told him that there were other owls out in the world, but Willogren thought the world was only as big as the hollow and the tree they lived in.

"I...can't go out today, Will," Huntley whispered softly. Huntley had used to called Willogren by his full name all the time, but he had shortened it to Will a few days after Willogren had first eaten meat.

"Why not, Uncle Lee? It looks like a pretty night." Willogren looked at the patch of stars he could see through the hollow entrance.

"You don't understand, young'un!" Huntley sighed.

Willogren blinked. Uncle Lee had never used such a fierce tone with him before. "Uncle Lee, you're scaring me!"

"I'm sorry, Willogren." Huntley closed his eyes. "I have lost my sight today."

"You lost what?" Willogren hopped closer to Huntley.

"I am blind. I cannot see," Huntley said. "There is nothing but darkness for me, now."

"How can you hunt without eyes, Uncle Lee?" Willogren cocked his head to one side.

"I cannot. You...will have to learn how to fly soon." Huntley turned his head in Willogren's direction. "Will, come close."

Willogren hopped closer. "I'm here, Uncle Lee."

"Now, listen to me very closely, Will. Remember every word I say. Your...real parents, the ones who gave you life...I did not know them. They were Striped Owls, such as yourself, but that is all I know of them. I found you mere days after you hatched..."

"What's hatched mean, Uncle Lee?"

"Do not interrupt me. I found you, and if I had not, you would not be here." Huntley paused before continuing. "I fed you. I named you. I treated you like my own young. You _are _my own young. I pledged to you that I would not leave you until I knew you would be well off without me. I fear that I cannot keep that pledge. My body is giving way. I will be dead in a matter of days."

"Dead, Uncle Lee?" Willogren did not know the meaning of the word 'dead.'

"I am going to tell you what to do from now on, Willogren. You will be alone until you learn to fly. You will need to learn how to hunt. Feed on caterpillars until you feel you are ready to hunt for larger prey." Huntley cringed. "Over the next few days, I will teach you the basics you need. I will tell you how to branch and how to fly. But only the basics. The rest will come naturally to you, Willogren."

"Yes, Uncle Huntley." Willogren felt that these last few days with Huntley were going to be the most important. "I will remember everything you say. I'll learn to branch, to fly, and to hunt."

"There's a good boy." Huntley sighed. "I need to rest. You will not have a meal today, Willogren. Neither of us will. Now, hush, and let me sleep."

* * *

Over the next few days, Huntley the Boreal Owl told Willogren the basics of branching, flying, and hunting. Willogren listened closely to his every word, clinging to them as if they were precious things to be missed. What Willogren did not know was that Huntley's last few days really would be precious, and that he would greatly miss the old owl who had taken it upon himself to raise him. Along with the lessons on branching, flying, and hunting, Willogren learned the life of Huntley. He listened to stories about Huntley's mate, Kataya, and their nine children. Willogren learned how to dream, and how to think, as he heard of Huntley's dreams and the lessons he'd learned during his long life.

On Huntley's last day, Willogren was by his side. The Boreal Owl was nearly all white, and patches of feathers had been falling out so that he was nearly bald. Willogren cried, for the first time in his life, that day, as Huntley lay in the bottom of the hollow. The Boreal Owl's breath was shallow and getting dimmer. Willogren could hear Huntley's heart beating slower and slower.

"Oh, Uncle Lee, please don't leave me!" Willogren cried, tears leaking out of his eyes.

"I know that...you will be...well off...without me...son..."

Son? What was son?

"Uncle Lee, what does son mean?" Willogren asked.

There was no reply. Huntley had stopped breathing. His heart pumped one last time, and then he was gone. Willogren felt a presence in the hollow, drifting away. Through his tears, he saw a shimmering, white essence leaving Huntley's body. He knew, without asking, that it was Huntley's spirit, going into glaumora, the owl heaven Huntley had told him about.

"I love you, Uncle Huntley. I will never forget you. I will find out what son means, and I will make you proud. Someday, I will see you in glaumora, and we will be together again." Willogren bowed his head to the Boreal Owl. "Good-bye, Uncle Lee. Find peace and rest in glaumora."

A full moon rose in the sky as Willogren walked to the edge of the hollow and stepped out. He would once more return to the tree, years later, to find a family of Boreal Owls living in the very hollow he grew up in. Seeing the family would fill his gizzard with happiness.

* * *

**End of Prologue**


	2. Ch 1 Promises

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Guardians of Ga'Hoole, but I do own the characters that were created for this story. Please don't steal my characters.

**Guardians of Ga'Hoole: Willogren's Story**

**#1 Song of Destiny**

**Chapter One**

_**Promises**_

Willogren taught himself how to fly using the basics Huntley had told him. Once he knew he was fully capable of flying, he left the tree and traveled for the next few months. He never stayed anywhere for very long, but every owl he met, he would ask them the meaning of the word "son." Already, he had been told that a "son" was a boy birthed to a male and a female, but Willogren knew in his gizzard that there was more to the word. There had been so much more to it when Huntley had called him "son."

Over the months, Willogren learned things he never would have learned if he had stayed in the tree he had been born in. He flew to Ambala and learned of the legend of Hortense, who had done a noble deed in some horrid place called St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls. He learned the legends of Ga'Hoole, and about a group of knightly owls from a kingdom called The Great Ga'Hoole Tree that rose each night into the blackness and performed noble deeds. These owls spoke no words but true ones, and their only purpose was to right all wrongs, to make strong the weak, mend the broken, vanquish the proud, and make powerless those who abuse the frail. And he heard whispers, rumors, of an evil owl called Metal Beak, who had been killed by his brother's friend.

One day, during his third visit to the Desert of Kuneer, Willogren came across a dying Burrowing Owl. The owl reminded him so much of Huntley, Willogren forced himself to fly down and land beside the owl. Above, he hadn't noticed the gash across the owl's neck that was oozing blood. A puddle was forming beneath the owl's head.

"Who...what...did this to you?" Willogren whispered, frightened deeply. It looked like an owl's talon-work. He recognized it from his own talon marks in his prey.

The owl burbled. A red bubble formed from his beak and popped.

"Pure Ones...did this..." he gasped. His eyes fluttered open and shut.

"What is your name?" Willogren leaned over the owl. "I am Willogren."

"I am...Lankard." The owl sighed. His eyes fluttered again. "Promise...me...Willo...gren..."

"Anything, dear Lankard." Willogren bowed his head.

"Go...go...to Ga'Hoole Tree...become...a Guardian...you must." Lankard coughed. Blood oozed from the side of his beak. "Fight...the...Pure Ones!"

"Yes, Lankard. I did not know you, but I promise that I will fight the Pure Ones." Willogren preened the feathers of the Burrowing Owls head. "Find peace in glaumora, Lankard."

"Thank...you." Lankard sighed his last breath. His fluttering eyes closed and were still.

Willogren pulled Lankard into the burrow close by. Using his legs, he filled in the hole. With a final good-bye, Willogren rose into the dark night and headed toward Ambala, where he would find the River Hoole, which led into the Sea of Hoolemere, and eventually led to...the Island of Hoole, and the Great Ga'Hoole Tree.

Willogren set down on the branch of a Ga'Hoole tree beside the shimmering river below. There was an empty patch of sky where the moon normally hung. He had been flying for three nights, only stopping during the day to sleep and hunt. His wings were very tired, which had never happened to him before. He wanted to get to the Sea of Hoolemere as quickly as possible. If that meant his wings were tired, then so be it. He'd rest a few days in The Barrens, along the coast of the sea, and then he would begin his flight across Hoolemere.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" a voice said.

Willogren twisted his head to look down. He saw a dark brown owl seated on a branch a few branches below him. It was a Spotted Owl, which he recognized from meeting so many of them in Ambala. The majority of those owls had been named Hortense, after the heroic Hortense who saved eggs from St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls.

"You're a Spotted Owl, aren't you?" Willogren ruffled his feathers. Whenever he met another owl, he made sure he knew exactly what sort of owl they were, so that he could determine the species of owls he met later in his travels.

"Why, yes, I am." She churred, an owl's version of laughing.

"Is your name Hortense?" Willogren wondered.

"Great Glaux, no!" She churred again. "My adopted parents didn't want to name me after the owl who saved me, when so many other owls were!"

"Adopted parents? Owl who saved you?" Willogren blinked.

"Yes. My name is Annah, and I was hatched from one of the many eggs Hortense saved from St. Aggie's." She bowed her head in a gesture of gratitude. "Hortense is a great hero."

"So I've heard," Willogren said.

"You sound ungrateful." Annah tilted her head. "What is _your_ name?"

"Willogren."

"That is a very nice name." Annah twisted her head to look at an empty spot in the sky. "There is a new moon tonight."

"I noticed." _This owl is frinking me off!_ Frink was the the second worst swear word an owl could say. Huntley would not approve of Willogren using such words, but Willogren rarely said them aloud. The swear words he knew were just other things he'd learned from traveling.

"Where are you from?" Annah asked.

"Here, there. Everywhere. I don't have a home." Willogren turned his head away.

"That's awful!" Annah gasped. "What happened to your parents?"

"I don't know. Never knew them," Willogren answered.

"I never knew my real parents, either. I was egg-napped by St. Aggie's. My adopted parents are the only family I know." Annah seemed to grow smaller. She was wilting, something owls did when they were afraid, or, in Annah's case, very sad.

"At least you have a family."

"You have no family?" Annah whispered.

"I have no home. How can I have a family if I have no home?" Willogren said roughly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry. I've never met anyone who didn't have a home. It's...," Annah paused.

"Strange?" Willogren's feathers fluffed up in anger.

"No. I wasn't going to say strange. I was going to say different." Annah opened her wings and fluttered to a branch level with Willogren's. "You not having a home is different."

Willogren's feathers flattened.

"You haven't met many owls, have you?" Annah asked.

"Is it that easy to tell?" Willogren looked at his talons.

"A little. Your manners are horrible." Annah churred again. "So, if you have no home, what do you do?"

"I travel. I've been to Tyto, Kuneer, Ambala, The Barrens, and The Beaks. I was thinking of heading to Silverveil when..." Willogren stopped. He'd been about to share his promise to Lankard!

"When what?" Annah urged. "Please, tell me, Willogren. I won't tell anyone else, if you don't want me to."

"I came across a dying Burrowing Owl in Kuneer." Willogren couldn't believe he was telling this owl he barely knew what had happened!

"Oh. Was he a very old Burrowing Owl?" Annah asked innocently.

"No. His throat had been slashed by the talons of another owl. He was in a battle." Willogren didn't know how he knew this, but the word "battle" just felt...right, somehow.

Annah wilted again. "Who would do such a terrible thing?"

"I'm not sure, but Lankard, the Burrowing Owl, told me it was the Pure Ones."

Annah gasped. "No! Not the Pure Ones!"

"You know of them?"

"Yes! Oh, I should have known it was them who did that to that poor, innocent owl!" Annah shook her head.

"Who are they?" Willogren demanded.

"They are Tytos, all of them. They think that all owls who are not Tytos are impure and that the world should be rid of them. They've been killing off owls in every kingdom. The stories I've heard! Oh, they're awful, horrible, terrible owls, Willogren!"

"Why is no one fighting them?" Willogren growled.

"Have you heard of the Great Ga'Hoole Tree and the order of knightly owls?" Annah looked into his dark eyes with her own black eyes.

"Yes, I have."

"They are fighting the Pure Ones. They are fighting them, and St. Aggie's, all at the same time! But I am not sure how well the fighting is coming along." Annah seemed to grow an air of confidence suddenly. "But I intend to go to the Great Ga'Hoole Tree, the grand Ga'Hoole tree in the middle of the Sea of Hoolemere. And when I get there, I will learn how to become a Guardian of Ga'Hoole. I will fight alongside the other Guardians, and I will help them stop the Pure Ones and St. Aggie's!"

"You're in luck, Annah. I am going to the Great Ga'Hoole Tree for the same reason. Lankard, the dying Burrowing Owl, asked me to fight the Pure Ones. And the best way to do that is to go to the Great Tree and become a Guardian," Willogren told her.

"Really? You're really going to the Great Ga'Hoole Tree?" Annah hopped up and down on her branch. "Will you come with me?"

"I don't see why not. I've been alone nearly my entire life. It's time I found some company." Willogren looked down at the River Hoole. "My original plan was to get to the coast of Hoolemere as quickly as possible, and then rest until I was strong enough for the flight to the Tree."

"That sounds perfect to me," Annah said. "You've traveled more than me, I'm sure. You'll know best!"

Willogren watched Annah spin her head around and rest her beak between her wings. She had clearly just given her full confidence in him. No other owl had ever done such a thing. It was an interesting new experience, and Willogren couldn't quite make up his mind whether it was good or bad. Willogren had never been along the River Hoole. He was just as much a foreigner to these parts as Annah. But she didn't need to know that. Did she?

The next night, after catching a meal of squirrels, the two owls swept up into the sky and began to fly over the dark river beneath them. They traveled in complete silence, which allowed Willogren to keep the sound of trickling water close enough for him to hear through the wind in the trees and the chattering of night animals. Annah was doing acrobatics in the air. First she'd dive downward, then veer left and right, left and right, and then she would catch a draft of air and ride it back up to fly beside him. It began to get annoying, but when Willogren was about to say something, Annah began talking.

"It so beautiful here, with the river talking, and the trees waving, and all the little animals saying hello. I wish I had been hatched above a river."

Willogren had never heard an owl speak like Annah was. How could a river talk? How could trees wave? And he'd never had any of his prey ever say hello to him!

"Annah, rivers don't talk," Willogren said.

"Oh, yes, they very much do! Everything has a voice, Willogren. The rivers, the trees, the clouds! You just have to know what to listen for." Annah veered off to the right, then back to the left. She was flying on his starboard side, which was his right. Huntley had taught him about starboard and port sides, but he'd certainly never mentioned trees, rivers, and clouds speaking! But the more Willogren thought about it, the more he began to understand what Annah meant.

"They all have their own voices? Like the river and it's trickling sound; that sound I listen for to know we're still following it?" Willogren looked down.

"Yes, yes! That's what I mean. The trees whisper. The grass does too, but in a different way. The rivers burble, and trickle, and laugh. I loved to sit in my hollow while my parents were away hunting and just listen to the sounds around me. I could tell you the difference between a squirrel's footsteps, and a mouse's, just by the sound!"

"I could tell the difference between a squirrel and a mouse," Willogren said.

"No, no! Not that way. It's different when you're _listening _and when you're _hunting_. Let me put it in different terms." Annah paused. "I can tell you the difference between long and short grass, just by listening to the sound of wind blowing through it."

"You can?" Willogren was impressed. He'd never really thought about wind through the grass before. Just being with Annah, he was learning so many things he'd never thought about before. "Could you teach me?"

"Yes. It's not that hard. You just sit, very quietly. You can shut your eyes or you can leave them open. But all you've really got to do is _listen._" Annah emphasized the word.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Willogren looked down at the trees going by underneath them and watched their boughs waving in the wind. Waving? They _were _waving!

"Annah! The trees! They're waving!" Willogren gasped.

"Yes, Willogren. The trees wave. It's their way of saying hello. Watch this!" Annah banked and lowered herself in the air. Willogren watched her as she flew, and then she did something extraordinary. She waggled a wing!

"Come on! Wave to the trees, Willogren!" Annah waggled her other wing. "Wave to them!"

Awkwardly, Willogren descended until he was level with Annah. It was almost effortless to waggle his own wing in a wave to the trees.

"Look, look!" Annah laughed. "They're waving again!"

The two of them waggled their wings and began hooting out hellos to the trees.

"Hellooo!" Annah hooted, waggling her wing.

"Hellooooo!" Willogren churred, waggling his own wing.

"Hellooooooo!" they both churred, crying out to the deaf trees.

"Oh, Willogren! What fun this is!" Annah went left, right, left, right in the air. "I've never had so much fun before!"

"Fun? What's fun?" Willogren blinked, watching her doing the strange movement. "What are you doing? It looks so...silly!"

"Silly? I'm dancing! It's not that hard, Willogren! Try it! You'll like it!" She started moving right, left, right, right, left. Right, left, right, right, left! "_This_ is fun! Fun makes you happy! It's called playing!"

"Fun." Willogren tried out the word again. "I've never had...fun before."

"Then right now is better than never!" Annah crowed a song into the night.

"_Right, right! Left, left!_

_Dance along to my song!_

_Right, right! Left, left!_

_You'll dance along _

_all night long_!"

"What was that, Annah?" Willogren had never heard a rhyme before, and he rather liked it. It had such a flowing sound to it.

"That was a song to dance to!" Annah replied. "Here, watch me while I sing it!"

Willogren watched her. When she said right, right, she veered to the right, but when she said left, left, she went to the left. At the part of "Dance along to my song," she swooped downwards and flared her tailfeathers so that she slowed down. Then she went right again, and then left, and when she came to the part of "You'll dance along all night long," she swooped upwards instead of down, and flared her tailfeathers again.

"That's a dance, Willogren. You try now! It'll make time go faster, I'm sure of it!" Annah urged him. "We'll start slow, and then once you've got it, we'll go faster and faster!"

Willogren didn't know what else to say, so he agreed. Annah had taught him the entire dance she called "Right and Left" by the time the sun rose on the horizon. Fully tired from a night's worth of dancing and traveling, the two owls landed in a fir tree beside the river and slept away the day.

**End of Chapter One**


	3. Ch 2 A Funny Feeling in My Gizzard

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Guardians of Ga'Hoole, but I do own the characters created for this story. Please don't steal my characters.

**Guardians of Ga'Hoole: Willogren's Story**

**#1 Song of Destiny**

**Chapter Two**

_**A Funny Feeling in My Gizzard**_

"Please, please, Willogren! I've told you about my adopted parents. Surely you've had _someone_ in your life. I can't possibly imagine you growing up all by yourself!" Annah pleaded.

They had been flying for a night and a half. Willogren was beginning to recognize the land below them, having flown over this area once before.

"We're getting close, Annah. We should be there by the end of tomorrow night," Willogren informed her.

"Stop changing the subject!" Annah touched his wing with her own for a moment as they flew. "You can't keep everything in your gizzard. You'll feel better if you tell me. I can see in your eyes that you've had a difficult life."

Willogren looked at the land passing beneath them and wondered for a moment how many owl families were in those waving trees. None of their chicks knew how lucky they were to have parents...to have someone that cared deeply for them.

"Can I ask you a question, Annah?" Willogren twisted his head to look at her.

"Ask me anything, Willogren," Annah said.

"What does the word 'son' mean?"

Annah blinked. Out of all the questions she thought he would ask, this one came unexpectantly. He couldn't possibly be talking about the sun. "You mean, literally, or...figuratively?"

"What does that mean?" Willogren had never heard such a large word as "figuratively."

"Literally, a son is a male born between a male and a female," Annah replied. "When a male and a female have a female, they call that a daughter."

"I already knew that," Willogren told her.

"Then you're looking for the figurative meaning." Annah hummed. "There's more than one figurative meaning for son. It just depends on the owl."

"What do you think son means?" Willogren's gizzard was twitching with anticipation. Finally, someone who could give him more than just "offspring" business!

"What do I think?" Annah seemed surprised he'd ask. "I'm not sure. I would have to think about it. You see, I've never had any children of my own. My adopted parents were too old to have any more children when they adopted me, so I grew up as an only child. I'm their final child, and they're always telling me how proud of me they are."

"When you do think about it, will you tell me?"

"Certainly, Willogren. Now may I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Why did you ask me about the meaning of 'son?' You've barely told me anything about your past, so the question confuses me."

"My Uncle called me son before he...passed on." Willogren twisted his head away from Annah. He didn't want her to see him crying. His attempt was futile, for Annah had heard the tears in his voice.

"Willogren, I'm so sorry. Was it your Uncle who raised you?"

Willogren nodded.

"Then you have had at least one parent," Annah whispered. "That's better than none. What was his name?"

"Huntley. He...I don't think he was really my Uncle." Willogren shook his head. "His feathers were white, but I learned that was just because he was so...old. I haven't seen any other owls that look like him, either, and he never told me what sort of owl he was. I know that I am a Striped Owl, from what he told me."

"What did he look like? I know all sorts of owls. I might be able to tell you what sort of owl Huntley was," Annah said.

"He had some brown feathers in all the white," Willogren recalled. "And I always thought something had happened to his face, because it looked as if someone had pulled his forehead down to touch his beak. His beak was black and gray, and his eyes...I remember them the most. They're the first memory I have. They were yellow, with just the tiniest bit of brown."

Annah thought for a moment. "I have to guess he was a Boreal Owl, Willogren."

"A Boreal," Willogren echoed. "Huntley was a Boreal Owl?"

"Possibly. I can't say for sure because I never met him," Annah said softly. "When did he pass on?"

"Right before I started branching." Willogren remembered his first hop, just after Huntley had died. "During his last few days, he told me about his past and the basics of branching, flying, and hunting. I ate caterpillars until I taught myself how to hunt."

"That must not have filled you very much."

"They kept me alive and strong enough to begin catching mice. After awhile of eating mice, I was strong enough to start getting larger prey, like squirrels." Willogren remembered the taste of his first squirrel. "That was a very triumphant day for me, when I caught my first squirrel. And I could almost hear Uncle Lee praising me." Willogren blinked, realizing what he'd just said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"It's okay. There's no reason to apologize," Annah said. "Huntley sounds like he was a terrific father."

"Father?" Willogren had never heard the word before.

"You know what a son and daughter is, but you don't know what a father is?" Annah gasped. "Oh, Willogren. A father is the one who gave birth to you, in literal terms. But a father can be the male who raised you, just the way Huntley raised you. He was your...adopted father. Just like my adopted mother and father."

"Mother?"

"That's the female who raises you. Essentially, you need both, but there are circumstances, such as yours, where there is no female present. For an owl...it can be a great loss." Annah gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't mean to make you feel bad, but it's the truth."

"I may not have had a mother, but I had a father who made up for it," Willogren said firmly. "Uncle Huntley taught me lessons through his stories. I know from him that you don't want to mess with snakes with rattles. That came in handy when I was in Kuneer."

Annah didn't know what to say to this. It was clear that Willogren thought very greatly of his "Uncle" Huntley.

"He told me I was one of his young," Willogren remembered. "I didn't know what it meant. I learned later that 'young' is another word for children. It has something to do with the word 'son', doesn't it?"

"Yes, Willogren. It does. Huntley was calling you his son, but in a different way. Do you know what the meaning of love is?" Annah questioned.

"I heard owl families saying that to each other, but I never quite understood what it meant." Willogren remembered a specific family of Spotted Owls who had allowed him to rest in a hollow of their tree. When the morning sun had come, the two adults had said, "I love you," to each other, and to all three of their owlets. The owlets had all replied, "We love you, too!" Willogren knew that the word "love" had something to do with families.

"Love is caring for someone else, sometimes even more than you love yourself." Annah sounded like she was going to yarp a pellet. Yarping was what an owl did when their second stomach, or gizzard, had compressed the indigestible parts of their meal. The "pellet" was yarped back up through the owl's beak.

"Do you need to yarp?" Willogren flew closer to her.

"No, no. I was just thinking about my adopted parents. They said they love Hortense because she saved me and gave them the chance to raise one last chick. But they've never met Hortense. I learned how to love her, too, though I've never met her. She saved my life."

"How could you...love...someone you've never met?"

"I'm not sure, but I know I love her. It would make me so happy to meet her." Annah sighed. "But she died saving an egg."

"Could I...love...my real parents? Even though I never met them?" Willogren was afraid Annah would say no.

"Oh, Willogren, I can't answer that for you. It would be wrong of me if I did."

"I understand." He did, after all. Annah _wasn't_ him. He would have to find out if he could love his parents by himself. But he wasn't quite sure how to go about doing that.

"I'm tired, Willogren. The sun's going to rise soon. I can almost see it's rays touching the horizon. Let's settle down for the day," Annah suggested.

Willogren didn't argue. The two of them found a nice aspen and settled down for a good day's sleep.

At the end of the next night, Willogren and Annah finally found the coast of Hoolemere in The Barrens. The Barrens were sandy, rocky, and had little, to no trees. The few trees that were there were scraggly and bore no leaves whatsoever. Willogren suggested they land beside one of these trees. So he and Annah began to spiral downwards and landed beside a thin, dying tree whose twigs layered the ground beneath it.

"That poor tree. It's too bad it tried to grow here," Annah sighed.

"Poor tree? What's this about a poor tree?"

Willogren and Annah turned to see a very small owl hopping up over a pile of rocks a few feet away from the tree. It had a yellow and light gray face; a dark gray forehead; a silver and black mottled head, chest, and stomach; dark gray and dark brown wings; and dark, black eyes.

"Who's talking about a poor tree?" the owl demanded.

"I'm sorry if I offended you. I was only commenting on the tree's rather...droopy disposition," Annah said.

"Offend me?" The little owl churred. "Good Glaux, did I really sound that disgruntled?"

"Don't take it as a compliment, Bumble."

Willogren and Annah gasped as a large, gray owl stepped out from behind the rocks to join the tiny owl. This new owl towered over them and made the other owl look even smaller. The large owl had a silver and dark brown striped facial disk; a brown and light gray mottled head; dark gray, white, and dark brown mottled stomach, chest, and wings; and light yellow eyes that seemed to pierce through Willogren's gizzard.

"They're only young'uns, Bumble. Of course they'd think you were disgruntled." The giant of an owl churred. His voice seemed to puncture the air like talons in flesh.

"Young'uns?" another voice said. A third owl appeared from behind the rocks. This was a kind of owl Willogren knew. He immediately recognized that flattish head and long, featherless legs. It was a Burrowing Owl!

"My goodness. How many of there are you?" Annah asked.

"We're only five," the large owl said as the Burrowing Owl walked down the rocks so that he was standing beside the first owl.

"I'm Annah and this is Willogren," Annah introduced them.

"I'm Findle, leader and co-founder of The Rogues." The large owl bowed his head. "We're defenders of owls, and we fight the Pure Ones."

"The Pure Ones!" Willogren cried.

"We're going to the Great Ga'Hoole Tree, to learn how to fight the Pure Ones," Annah explained. "We want to be Guardians."

A soft voice churred as the most beautiful owl Willogren had ever seen stepped out. She had a white face; a white and black mottled head, chest, stomach, and wings; and the softest, most inviting, amber eyes. "Young'uns, you've set a mighty quest upon your shoulders. Surely, you've heard that only those who are noble of gizzard can find the island where the Great Tree thrives?"

"That does not matter because we know we are noble of gizzard!" Willogren's feathers fluffed up, making him look bigger. "I have made a promise to someone that I will go to the Great Tree and learn to fight the Pure Ones. I will stop at nothing to achieve that."

The Snowy Owl, for that was what the beautiful owl was, Willogren knew, looked at the large, gray owl. "You hear the strength, the wisdom in his voice, Findle? My Glaux, the little dear is a born fighter. Reminds me of...you remember."

"Yes, my dear Moonsong." Findle closed his eyes. "The reason we found you."

"Quite so." The Snowy, named Moonsong, hung her head.

Willogren felt as if he knew this owl from somewhere; it was as if he had heard her name, Moonsong, in his dreams, but he couldn't quite remember. The more he tried to, the farther it slipped away.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Willogren asked.

"Me?" Moonsong blinked. "My Glaux, no. I wouldn't think so."

"What's going on?"

Findle spun his head around. Willogren peered around the four owls to see that a fifth, and final, owl had come out. He had gray eyebrows that started above his eyes and then swooped down to either side of his beak. His facial disk was light brown and white; his head, chest, and stomach were mottled in dark brown and light brown; his wings were brown, dark gray, and white; and he had very round, black eyes.

"Everything is okay, Taron. We've just got some company, that's all," Findle replied.

Taron hopped forward. He didn't look much older then Willogren and Annah. "They're awfully young to be flying around The Barrens alone."

"They're going to the Great Ga'Hoole Tree," Bumble, the smallest, who was a Flammulated Owl, said.

"Really?" Taron seemed a little surprised. "That's exciting."

"When were you two planning on heading out?" Findle wondered of Willogren and Annah.

"Maybe tomorrow," Willogren replied. "Once we've rested."

"Not a very good idea." Findle turned his head toward the sea. "I saw a storm brewing earlier tonight. For two young'uns like you, it would be a disaster to leave tomorrow. I would give it at least two, maybe three, nights before you take off."

"Thank you for the warning," Annah said.

"Do you need a place to sleep? Grok found us a burrow in this rock pile here." Findle nodded to the pile of rocks.

Willogren assumed that Grok was the Burrowing Owl.

"We would greatly appreciate that, sir!" Annah replied.

"No need to call me that." Findle motioned for Willogren and Annah to follow them. "We don't much like formalities. It's why we call ourselves The Rogues."

They were led into a nice burrow in the rocks. It was just the right size for the large group. There was moss to sleep on and a pool of water near the back to drink from.

"You two must be hungry. Please, eat something. We've all eaten already." Findle pointed a wing at the small pile of voles and mice. "The hunting is scarce here and what we did find was scrawny. It's tough, but it's good for the gizzard."

"Thank you ever so much. You're very kind." Annah bobbed her head before she and Willogren went to eat.

Willogren felt the eyes of the Snowy Owl, Moonsong, on him the entire time he was eating. The feeling that he'd known her from somewhere kept gnawing at his gizzard. He knew he had heard that name, somewhere, some place, in some time that kept slipping from his mind. The feeling stayed with him the whole time he was sleeping, and he dreamed of a pulsing darkness and cozy comfort.

That cozy comfort began to slip away. There were tiny, cracking sounds. The tiniest noise of something tap, tap, tapping on something until it gave way. Then the feeling of cold, shivering, air...the first breath of air...and the screams...the terrible, awful screams of...

"Willogren, wake up! It's just a dream!" Annah's voice broke through.

Willogren's eyes opened wide. He was in the burrow once more, with Annah and the group of owls that called themselves The Rogues. Moonsong's amber eyes were misty as she looked at him with the rest of them.

"I'm sorry I woke everyone." Willogren ducked his head down in embarrassment. "It was a bad dream, that's all."

"No need to be sorry. We all get bad dreams...sometimes." Findle's eyes were clouded with sadness.

Willogren wondered what could have possibly happened to these owls to make them want to fight against the Pure Ones and help out owls in trouble. Did they have bitter pasts like his?

"Moonsong, take Taron out and fetch us something to eat. We'll be leaving once we've finished," Findle ordered.

Without a word, Moonsong and Taron left the burrow.

"You're leaving already?" Annah, who was standing quite close to Willogren, looked at Findle with question in her round, black eyes.

"We've been here for three nights," Findle replied. "We do not stay anywhere for very long. Our next destination is Silverveil, where we intend to speak with a rogue blacksmith to see if she has any information for us."

"What's a rogue blacksmith?" Annah wondered.

"They use fire to create things out of metal. She made these for us." Findle lifted a talon, and for the first time, Willogren noticed that there was something different about Findle's talons. They were covered in something shiny that was curved just right so it fit perfectly over his real talons. The ends were sharp; sharper than any owl's talons or the fangs of a bobcat. Willogren had come across a bobcat on his second visit to Kuneer. It was not an experience he wanted to go through again.

"Are those...battle claws?" Annah whispered.

"Yes. The Rogue Smith of Silverveil is very talented. When she heard we were going to defend owls in trouble, and fight the Pure Ones, she made each of us a pair. We vowed to her that we would never tell anyone associated with the Pure Ones where we received them. She refused to make any for the Pure Ones. If they ever found out where we got these, they would kill her."

Willogren looked at the talons of Bumble and Grok. Both were wearing battle claws as well. He thought about Moonsong, and Taron and realized that both of them had the battle claws, too.

"I've never seen, or heard of, battle claws before. I assume they're used for battle, which would make sense, considering their name." Willogren looked at Findle with curiosity.

"They are used for battle, yes, and they are vicious, dangerous weapons. They are not to be looked upon lightly," Findle said. "It takes great skill to wield a pair. You have to get used to their weight while flying, and how to attack, feint, and defend yourself."

"It sounds like an awful lot of work," Annah commented.

"They are not for the faint of gizzard, that is for sure!" Bumble said, just as Moonsong and Taron arrived with three mice and a vole.

"Hunter's share," Findle said.

Willogren watched Moonsong and Taron choose what they wanted before the other three ate. He had heard of the "Hunter's share," but he had never seen it before. It was only "manners," as Annah called them, to allow those who hunted the animals to get first choice.

After they had finished eating, each owl gave their good-byes. Willogren and Annah watched them rise into the air. The two raised their wings in good-bye as The Rogues headed off into the night, singing a song.

"_We are who we are_

_you can't change that_

_and if you try to_

_we'll turn you to splat!_

_We're The Rogues_

_we fight for the owls_

_who have trouble, distress_

_and year-round stress!_

_We are who we are_

_you can't change that_

_and if you try to_

_we'll turn you to splat!_

_We're The Rogues_

_we fight against the owls_

_who call themselves Pure_

_and we all know for sure_

_their death is the cure!_

_We are who we are_

_and you can't change that_

_and if you try to_

_we'll turn you to splat!_

_Oh, we're The Rogues_

_The Rogues_

_The Rogues_

_and nothing can change that!_"

--

Willogren was perched on top of the pile of rocks, watching the storm throw the sea into frothy waves. He silently thanked Findle again for warning them about the storm. He'd never been in such a storm before, and he was sure Annah hadn't either. It had been two days since The Rogues had left, and the storm had lessened in intensity. He guessed they would be able to leave by tomorrow night.

Annah flew up with a mouse in her beak and another in her talons. She dropped one beside him. "These two were the fattest. It took me a little longer, but I was finally able to catch them."

"Thanks." Willogren picked up the mouse and gulped it down headfirst. "I would have gotten something myself."

"I know, but I thought getting two plump ones in one hunt would be good for both of us. The mice and voles here are so scrawny." Annah gulped down her own mouse.

"We should be able to leave by tomorrow." Willogren looked out at the storm. "It's lessened a lot since two days ago."

"It's amazing how quickly they come and go," Annah mused. "Storms have voices too, you know. Loud ones. The storms that passed our hollow frightened me when I was younger, but when I learned to listen to the sounds, they stopped being scary. Now, sometimes, they almost seem peaceful."

Willogren looked at the white-capped waves and the dark, rolling clouds of the storm over the sea. How could something like that be peaceful? Annah was one of the most amazing, and rather strange, owls he'd ever met. He looked at her and saw the storm reflected in her dark eyes. Her eyes were so much like his own, though much rounder. There was this feeling in his gizzard that he'd never felt before. It was something unique, something strange, just like Annah.

"Annah, I have a funny feeling in my gizzard. I don't know what it is." Willogren saw her turn her head to look at him.

"Can you describe it?"

"It's hard to describe. It's similar to my feeling toward...Uncle Huntley." Willogren blinked. "But it's...different, in some way."

"I think you're feeling a form of love, Willogren," Annah said. She tilted her head. "Friendship, maybe?"

"Friendship? What's that?" Willogren couldn't believe there were so many words Annah knew that he didn't, even though he'd traveled to many more places than she had.

"Friendship is the relationship between friends. Friends are...hmmm...that's a difficult one to explain. A friend is someone you know well and are fond of. They might be your...ally...someone who sympathizes with you, or someone who supports what you do."

Willogren thought about that. "Are friends owls you love?"

"They can be, yes. I had a Spotted Owl friend who lived in the tree next to ours. I loved her almost like a sister. There are many forms of love, Willogren. Your love for your friends, your family, your parents. There's a form for love for your hobbies, such as flying, or hunting, or eating. I had an Uncle in my adopted family that loved to eat."

"I think you are right, Annah. I am feeling a form of love. I was thinking about how much you've taught me, even though we've only known each other for a few days. I think I'm feeling a form of love, a friendship love, for you."

Annah bobbed her head and tilted her beak toward the ground in embarrassment. "I consider you a friend, too, Willogren. You've taught me things, too. I learned that not everyone is as fortunate as I am in having a family that loves, and cares, for them."

"Thank you for being my friend, Annah. You do not know how much it means to me. The only true friend I had was Uncle Huntley." Willogren looked out at the storm again. "Tomorrow, we'll take flight over that sea. And whatever happens out there, we'll get through it together. Right?"

"Absolutely, Willogren!"

**End of Chapter Two**


End file.
